


let our hearts (like doors) open wide

by adamganseys



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: A little angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pre and post epilogue, Three Different Valentine's Days, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13691565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamganseys/pseuds/adamganseys
Summary: Maybe he was right – maybe neither of them are wired for romance. He wonders if they can learn.(Adam and Ronan on Valentine's Day, over the years.)





	let our hearts (like doors) open wide

**Author's Note:**

> I literally had this idea earlier today and wrote this over the span of a few hours so hopefully it's not terrible. The initial concept was supposed to be Adam and Ronan becoming sappier and more comfortable with romance over time but I don't know how much of that came through. It also starts off a little sadder and angstier than I planned, but it's still mostly fluff. 
> 
> Title is from "North" by Sleeping at Last.

**i.**

 

Adam is exhausted. This isn’t a particularly new or out of place feeling for him, so he doesn’t think twice about it. What is new and out of place is the heart shaped balloon that hits him in the face as he’s walking down the Aglionby halls with Gansey.

“What the fuck?” Adam spits as he whacks the balloon out of his way. It just proceeds to float back over to him and bump his head. “What is this doing in the middle of the hallway?”

Gansey raises an eyebrow at him. “They’re all around the school, Adam. Have you not noticed them?”

Adam just blinks at him.

“Jesus. Exactly how tired are you?”

Adam rubs his eyes. “Don’t ask. What are they for, anyway?”

Gansey stares at him. “Again, I ask, _how tired are you?_ It’s February 13th.”

“Yeah,” Adam says, impatient. “So?”

“ _So_ , it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. Did you forget?”

Adam blinks again. No, he didn’t forget. For something to be forgotten, he’d have to remember it in the first place, and something like that isn’t worth remembering in his already too cluttered, too tired brain.

When Adam doesn’t answer, Gansey goes on, “You’re not doing anything with Ronan, then?”

Before Adam can reply, a familiar voice says, “What aren’t we doing?”

Adam and Gansey look up and spot Ronan standing by their lockers, a few feet away, adorned in his leather jacket and ripped jeans, an outcast among the sea of collared shirts and sweaters. Adam can’t help it; despite his bad mood, he breaks into a smile.

“Lynch. What are you doing here?” He hasn’t seen Ronan on the Aglionby campus in at least a month; he’d dropped out in the fall and he doesn’t make it a point to visit often.

Ronan shrugs. “Thought I’d drive you to work.”

Adam frowns. “I have my bike.” He’s been running low on money so he resorted to leaving the Hondayota and its nearly empty gas tank at St. Agnes and biking to school and work the past few days. Which just added to his ever present exhaustion.

Ronan scoffs. “I’m aware of that, Parrish.”

Adam looks at Ronan, and Ronan looks back, and it occurs to him that they haven’t seen each other in three days because Adam has been so busy, and that maybe Ronan is offering to drive him to make things easier for him, and maybe he’s doing it because he missed Adam and wanted to see him, and maybe it’s a combination of those two things.

Adam wants to kiss him very badly suddenly, and if he wasn’t so against PDA, he would. But he is, and so he settles for standing next to Ronan and leaning into him just slightly. “Okay. Great.”

Ronan flashes him a small smile, and slings a casual arm around his shoulders, in the way Aglionby boys often do. Except Ronan’s fingers settle on Adam’s collarbone in a way that is decidedly _un_ -Aglionby, and Adam is sure the way his heart threatens to beat out of his chest at the touch is also decidedly _un_ -Aglionby.

Or maybe it isn’t. Adam doesn’t presume to know the sexual orientations of all the boys at the school, and he doesn’t particularly care, either.

Gansey looks at the two of them side-by-side, and with a knowing expression, he says, “To answer your question, Ronan, we were talking about Valentine’s Day.”

Ronan blinks very slowly. “Oh. Is that soon? That what those dumbass balloons are all about?”

Gansey throws his hands up in the air, being unnecessary dramatic in Adam’s opinion. “Christ. Do either of you have a romantic bone in your body?”

Both of them give Gansey matching looks of disdain.

“Whatever. You’re actually celebrating that shit?” Ronan asks, distaste clear in his voice.

Gansey replies, “Obviously. I’ve had it planned for a month. I’m taking Blue out to dinner.”

“And she agreed to that?” Adam says, skeptical.

“It took some convincing, but yes, she did. And you two should do something too.”

Adam crosses his arms defensively. “It’s a Wednesday. The only thing I’m doing tomorrow is finishing that Latin essay and working at the garage until ten. Not all of us can afford to waste time and money on fancy dinners, Gansey.”

Ronan’s arm tightens on Adam’s shoulder. “You’re working that late _again_?”

Adam tenses. “Don’t start, Ronan.”

Ronan removes his arm and shoves both of his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Fine.”

Adam closes his eyes for a moment. God, he’s exhausted. He doesn’t need to be thinking about this. “Can we just go?”

He opens his eyes just as Ronan gives him a curt nod.

Adam bumps Gansey’s fist, who mutters, “Think about what I said,” which Adam ignores.

When they’re in the BMW, Adam looks at Ronan, and Ronan looks at him, poorly disguised concern in his eyes. Adam wonders what Ronan sees. Probably nothing good, because he didn’t even have time to comb his hair this morning, and there are dark shadows under his eyes from the two hours of sleep he managed to get.

Adam pushes those thoughts away and murmurs, “Come here.”

A second later, Ronan has only leaned halfway over the gearshift when Adam, ever impatient, ever starving, finishes the job and kisses him, mouth hard and hungry. Ronan responds in kind, hand burying itself in Adam’s untamed hair.

When they pull away, Adam lays his head against the window and is asleep within minutes. The jerk of the BMW as they stop outside Boyd’s isn’t particularly welcome, and Adam groans as he’s woken from his nap.

“Afternoon, sunshine,” Ronan says, smirking at Adam’s annoyed expression.

Adam sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks for driving me.”

“Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Adam purses his lips. “I told you, I’m busy. I have to go straight to work from school and I won’t be home until after ten.”

“I can drive you to work again,” Ronan offers.

Adam shakes his head. “You don’t need to do that. I’ll see you this weekend, okay?”

Ronan’s expression isn’t a happy one until he schools it and looks away from Adam, staring out the windshield instead. “Whatever,” Ronan says for a third time.

At Boyd’s, Adam is distracted. He’s distracted by Ronan’s unhappy expression, by Gansey saying _think about what I said_. And, well, then Adam can’t not think about it, because once he realizes it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow, it’s suddenly everywhere. The crackling radio at the shop mentions it, some ridiculous guy making an embarrassing declaration to his girlfriend, and Adam can just picture Ronan’s mocking voice doing an impersonation that would make Adam laugh until he cried, if he was here. Boyd mentions it, asking if he’s taking a girl out tomorrow, and when Adam answers no, he says, “Really? A boy like you doesn’t have a date for Valentine’s Day?” And Adam isn’t sure why that annoys him, but it does. It’s everywhere at school the next day, too, with Gansey and Henry talking excitedly about their plans with their dates, and every other Aglionby boy making crude jokes about potentially getting laid that night. There are student government representatives selling roses and when one of them approaches Adam, he just stares at the student blankly until he takes the hint, stammering an excuse and walking away.

Another heart shaped balloon floats in front of him, and Adam nearly takes it in his hands and pops it.

He doesn’t understand, really, because he doesn’t _care_ about Valentine’s Day, hadn’t even remotely considered the possibility of doing anything special for it with Ronan. And more than that, it’s not _them_ in the slightest. This isn’t what they do. Their “dates” consist of driving around in the BMW, or hanging out at St. Agnes or the Barns, or occasionally going to Nino’s without the others. They’ve never done anything traditionally romantic. Sure, they’ve gotten better at initiating hand holding, especially with Ronan’s badly hidden appreciation for Adam’s hands, and maybe they spoon whenever they sleep together, and maybe Adam is less hesitant to lay his head in Ronan’s lap nowadays. But that’s not _romance_ ­– it’s not fancy candlelit dinners and flowers and boxes of chocolates. The thought of doing anything of that sort with Ronan is strange and weird, and Adam doesn’t know why it’s strange and weird, because it’s not like he’s been afraid to do similar things for the few girls he’d dated in the past. Maybe it’s strange and weird because it’s a boy, or because it’s Ronan, or a combination of both those things.

Adam doesn’t think either of them are wired for romance.

But then Adam’s mind drifts to mixtapes and bottles of hand lotion and Ronan’s voice in his ear, whispering, _Fuck, you’re gorgeous_ as he got him off for the first time months ago.

And the thing is, even if he wants to – which he doesn’t, he tells himself, he _doesn’t_ – he can’t. And that’s it—that’s the part that stings.

Because Adam is tired, so tired, because he has too many hours left of his shift, too much homework to finish, and too little courage to initiate anything resembling romance with his boyfriend.

Not to mention no money to buy anything substantial, anything that a boy like Ronan could possibly want.

Perhaps if he’d thought about it before, planned ahead, today could be different, but he hadn’t, and so he dredges himself up the steps to his apartment that night in disappointment, exhausted and feeling strangely lonely after hours spent working on an engine.

Outside his door, Ronan is waiting for him, a bag of takeout in his hands.

“Parrish. Finally. I’ve been waiting for an hour.”

Too tired to even convey any surprise concerning Ronan’s visit, Adam just says, accent dripping all over the place, “I told you I’d be done at ten. It’s 10:15.”

Ronan doesn’t reply, and Adam doesn’t ask why he’s here, just opens the door to let them both in.

Once they’re inside, Adam eyes the bag of Chinese food with suspicion. “I have to finish my essay.”

“Then write while you eat, Parrish.”

“How much do I owe you?”

Ronan scoffs, irritated. “Nothing.”

“ _Ronan_ —“

“Consider it a Valentine’s Day gift,” Ronan says, mocking.

Adam rolls his eyes. He’ll just buy Ronan food next time to make up for it. “Right.”

But as Ronan takes out the food, Adam notices there’s more food than usual, and it’s all his favorite dishes from the takeout place, and Adam wonders how much of Ronan’s words were actually sarcastic.

Ronan offers to help with Adam’s essay, and though Adam bristles at first, he’s too exhausted to argue, and he can’t deny that Ronan’s Latin vocabulary is better than his. So they eat and study, with Ronan only giving as much help as Adam’s boundaries will allow, and he has to admit that he finishes a lot quicker as a result.

Adam stands and stretches for endless seconds when he’s finally done, his muscles sore and aching, his head pounding. “God,” Adam says, voice dry and cracked. “God. I’m so fucking tired.”

Ronan stands up, too, and put his hands on Adam’s shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles in the places where his shoulder meets his neck. “Let’s sleep.”

Adam sighs, burying his face in Ronan’s neck. “Yeah. Sleep.” Ronan’s arms drop from his shoulders to his waist, pulling him closer. Adam closes his eyes, breathes Ronan in.

They’re in bed moments later, and as Adam is about to turn off the lamp next to his mattress, Ronan says, “Wait.”

Adam watches as he rummages through his backpack. “What are you doing?”

“I have something for you,” Ronan says, voice muffled from the way it’s buried in his backpack.

Adam stares in bewilderment as Ronan finally sits upright and hands him—a teddy bear.

A stuffed white teddy bear holding a little red heart.

Adam stares, and stares, and stares, his expression something akin to fear, as if the teddy bear is actually a bomb.

“What,” Adam says, slowly, “the fuck is that?”

Ronan scowls. “What does it look like?”

Adam looks at the object dubiously, wondering if he’s hallucinating, if possibly he needs glasses. “You bought me a stuffed bear.”

“Dreamt it. Come on, Parrish, take it.”

Adam’s gaze is still suspicious, and reaches out very slowly to take the bear, still wondering if this is a prank, because Ronan Lynch is giving him a teddy bear holding a heart for Valentine’s Day, this is really happening.

But maybe Adam is better off trusting his instincts, because the moment his hand makes contact with the bear, it starts blasting the Murder Squash Song.

Adam yelps, embarrassingly startled, and automatically throws the bear several feet away from him, where it lands on the floor.

Ronan doubles over in laughter, and once Adam’s ability to breath comes back to him, he takes a pillow and hits Ronan over the head with it.

“You _asshole_ ,” Adam snaps, but Ronan’s laughter is infectious, and soon he’s laughing too. “You’re such a shithead, oh my god.”

Still cackling, Ronan reaches and picks the bear off the floor, pressing some switch so the wailing of that awful song finally stops.

“You should’ve seen your face, Parrish,” Ronan says, grinning.

“I hate you. I hate you so much.”

“I bet you do. Happy fucking Valentine’s Day.”

“You’re the absolute worst. Is that thing going to play that monstrosity every time I touch it?”

“Yup,” Ronan says, sounding absurdly cheerful.

“Great. You dreamt me my worst nightmare. I’m going to have to burn it.”

“I’m hurt, Parrish. Your boyfriend got you an amazing, thoughtful valentine, and you don’t even appreciate it.”

“I’m never speaking to you again.”

Ronan places the bear on floor beside him and kisses Adam’s ear. “Sure you aren’t.”

Adam turns the light off, still smiling, and they lay down, facing each other. He’s reminded of his exhaustion once more, and his eyes feel heavy. But—there’s something he needs to say, and the exhaustion and the darkness makes it easier, makes him bolder.

The moonlight paints Ronan’s face in silver, his edges somehow both sharper and softer than usual. Ronan’s hand is on Adam’s cheek, thumb brushing back and forth on his cheekbone. The touch lights something up inside him.

“Maybe we should’ve done something today,” Adam says, voice quiet.

Ronan raises an eyebrow. “You mean—for Valentine’s Day?”

Adam feels his face heat up. “Yeah.”

“I thought you were too busy.”

“I was. I _am_. But—I don’t know. We still should’ve done something. Or I should’ve gotten you something, at least.”

“Parrish, you do realize that gift was a joke.”

“I _know_ that.” Adam doesn’t mention the fact that the food wasn’t a joke, and the help with the Latin essay wasn’t, and the mixtape and hand lotion and every other small bit of affection Ronan has ever given him weren’t jokes.

“I just—“ Adam falters, not sure how to put his jumbled thoughts into words. “Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Ronan’s fingers still on his cheek. “Do you want to do all the dumb shit that normal couples do?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Adam says, frustrated, not knowing in the slightest why he’s frustrated, which in turn frustrates him even more. “Just—Gansey was talking about his fancy date with Blue, and Henry about all the shit he bought his girlfriend, and I’m too tired and too busy to even—“ Adam breaks off and shuts his eyes tightly.

“Adam. I don’t need all of that.”

He opens his eyes. Ronan’s gaze is resolute on his. “I know,” Adam says, and he sounds unconvincing even to himself.

He doesn’t know what he wanted from this day. Maybe he just wanted the option _to_ want something. To be able to do something. Instead, it feels like his wrists are tied again like the day of the demon, all control slipping away from him.

“You know what, on second thought,” Ronan says, “You’re right.”

Adam gapes at him. “What?”

“You’re right, Parrish. I’m offended. Didn’t you buy Sargent flowers?”

Adam huffs out a startled laugh. “ _Lynch_.”

“Seriously, man. Am I not worthy enough for flowers to you? You bought them for Blue before you even went on a date and yet we’re months into this and _nada_. It’s bullshit, if you ask me.”

Adam shoves him. “Oh my god.”

Ronan’s grin is wide and his teeth glint in the moonlight. “You even called her pretty. You’ve never called _me_ pretty.”

“When did I do that?” Adam demands.

In a high pitched Henrietta drawl, Ronan imitates, “ _You sure are pretty_.”

Adam opens his mouth, shuts it. “Jesus, Ronan. Were you _eavesdropping?_ ”

Ronan scoffs. “No. You were just loud.”

Adam knows for a fact that wasn’t true. “I can’t believe you were eavesdropping.”

“Your attempts at flirting were pathetic, Parrish.”

Adam laughs, gleeful. “Were you jealous? Is that why you were spying on us?”

“I wasn’t _spying_ ,” Ronan says, indignant at the accusation.

Adam grabs the front of Ronan’s t-shirt and pulls him closer. “Tell you what, then,” Adam says against Ronan’s lips. “Next year, I’ll buy you flowers.”

Ronan tries not to look affected by what the words imply. “Sure. Can’t wait. Never looked forward to anything more in my life.”

Adam rolls his eyes and kisses him.

“We probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything today, anyways,” Ronan mutters, hesitant. “I was fucking exhausted all day, too.”

Adam freezes. “Have you not been sleeping?” Ronan doesn’t answer. “Jesus, Ronan. Have you been having nightmares again?”

Ronan’s silence is answer enough, and Adam’s heart clenches in his chest.

Adam wonders if they’ll ever be more than this – more than two bone-tired boys, plagued with constant demons and nightmares, just trying to hold on. If they’ll be able to loosen their grips enough to do the kinds of things normal teenagers in relationships do, like spending a romantic Valentine’s Day together.

Maybe he was right – maybe neither of them are wired for romance. He wonders if they can learn.

Adam puts his hand to Ronan‘s cheek, thumb brushing over his eyebrow. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here,” he whispers, misery clawing up his throat. There’s so much he wishes he could do for Ronan, so much that Adam Parrish can’t afford to do and won’t be able to any time soon.

“Don’t be stupid. You have your own shit. I get it.”

“I know, but—“

“Adam. Shut up.” Then, gentler, “Come on, you’re exhausted. Let’s just sleep.”

“Yeah,” Adam murmurs, lips against Ronan’s forehead. “Let’s sleep.”

A few minutes later, with Adam’s back snugly fitting against Ronan’s chest and Ronan’s arms around him, Adam mumbles sleepily, “Ronan?”

“Hmm?”

“I told Blue her hair smells nice, once. If you want, I can smell your nonexistent hair and tell you, too.”

Ronan snorts loudly, and Adam feels the vibration at the back of his neck.

“Go to sleep, you fucking weirdo.”

Adam smiles. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Maybe this is all they’ll ever get to be. But in that moment, Adam can’t get himself to care.

 

 

**ii.**

 

“I don’t know, Gansey, it just hasn’t been great. We’ve been fighting a lot.”

“Talk to him, then,” Gansey’s voice says on the phone.

Adam scoffs, shutting his Chemistry textbook at last. He can’t focus right now as it is. “You don’t think I’ve tried? He won’t pick up the phone. We haven’t spoken in three days. And it’s not entirely that, anyways.”

“Then what is it?”

Adam sighs. “I don’t know. There’s just this—disconnect, y’know? It’s been there for a while.”

“Long distance is hard, Adam,” Gansey replies, voice soft and earnest. “It’ll work itself out. Just keep trying.”

“I miss him,” Adam admits, miserable.

“I know you do. If he won’t talk to you, try something different. It’s Valentine’s Day in a few days, isn’t it? Why don’t you plan something for that?” Before Adam can respond, Gansey adds, “I know, I know, you two think it’s lame, you made that very clear last year. But if your relationship needs a push, then, well, romantic gestures are the way to go. Trust me, they work with Blue and Henry.”

Adam considers this. He had actually remembered about Valentine’s Day, this time, but he had dismissed the thought of doing anything for it, because he and Ronan were in a weird funk, and he had classes that day, and it’s not like they’d be able to see each other in person, so what could he possibly do?

But something strikes him, then.

“Thanks, Gansey. I appreciate the talk.”

“Anytime.”

The next day, he buys a bouquet of flowers with roses, pink camellias, and lilacs. Love and longing.

On the card, he writes, _You’re really fucking pretty, Lynch. Happy Valentine’s Day, asshole. – Love, Adam._

 

*

 

It’s late evening on February 14th, and Ronan still hasn’t called. Adam is anxious and fidgety, trying to study in his dorm room but unable to focus, his thoughts consumed with Ronan Lynch.

_Ronan hasn’t called. Why hasn’t he called? Maybe he just didn’t check his mail today. Maybe it never arrived. Maybe he saw it and threw it in the trash. Maybe he’s still mad. Maybe he wants to break up. Maybe—_

Adam’s cell phone rings, and he answers so fast that he’s a little embarrassed.

“Ronan,” Adam breathes.

“I texted a picture of the flowers to Sargent. She wants to have a word with you.”

“What? Why?”

“She’s real upset, Parrish. Says the flower arrangement you got her wasn’t nearly as nice.”

Adam lets out a relieved laugh, soaking in the sound of Ronan’s voice. The anxiety in the pit of his stomach is gone almost immediately. “Yeah, well, tell her sorry, but there’s a big difference between you and her.”

“Oh yeah?” Adam can hear the smile in Ronan’s voice. “And what’s that?”

“Well, for starters, I wasn’t in love with her.”

Ronan’s breath catches on the other end. “Is that so? And me?”

“You really need me to say it?” Adam asks softly.

“No,” Ronan says, but Adam hears what he doesn’t say: _I don’t need you to, but I want you to_.

“I love you,” Adam says, voice a little raw. “I _miss_ you. God, Ronan. I wish I could make it there today, or this weekend, but—“

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, I—“ There’s a loud knock at the door, and Adam makes a noise of frustration. “Hold on, there’s someone at the door. Probably one of my roommate’s annoying friends.”

When Adam opens the door, Ronan Lynch standing in front of him, a fucking rose stem between his teeth.

“Oh my god,” Adam laughs, grabbing Ronan’s hand and pulling him inside.

Ronan grins, and in doing so the rose falls from his mouth. “Shit,” he says, picking it up off the ground. “I thought I’d be able to keep it there longer than that.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Adam says, and he can hear the overwhelming fondness in his own voice.

Ronan hands him the rose. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Adam studies it. “Is that from the bouquet I got you?”

Ronan shrugs. “Maybe. I left too quickly after I received it to get another one.”

“Real romantic, Lynch,” Adam says dryly.

“Shut up. Come here.”

Adam does.

He kisses Ronan deeply, trying to pour in all the longing he’s felt since winter break ended, clutching onto him as tightly as he possibly can.

“I missed you,” Adam says against Ronan’s lips.

“You already said that.”

“Ronan.”

Ronan cups Adam’s cheek with his hands. “I missed you, too, asshole.” Then he smirks. “I can’t believe Adam Parrish called me pretty. I’ll have to write about it in my diary.”

Adam laughs again, shoving Ronan lightly. “Asshole.”

“Seriously. I’m positively swooning, Parrish. I feel a little lightheaded, actually. Better call a doctor, I might faint right—“

Adam kisses him to shut him up, and it’s a pretty effective method, because they don’t talk much after that.

Afterward, when they’re lying sated in bed, Ronan takes a large box out from his bag. It’s a deep emerald green, and he hands it to Adam.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

“It’s not going to start playing the Murder Squash Song, is it? I swear to god, Ronan—“

“Relax, Parrish, it’s not that.”

Adam doesn’t entirely believe him, but he opens it anyway. And thankfully there’s no music blasting from it.

It’s a box of chocolates. Well, one bar of chocolate, technically. A gigantic one, shaped and carved to look like the Magician card. It’s not just brown, either, but the colors match the card itself perfectly, and it’s glowing almost like jewels.

There’s a lump in Adam’s throat.

“Come on, take a bite,” Ronan says, voice soft.

Adam almost doesn’t want to ruin it, but he breaks a small piece off the corner. When he tastes it, it’s immediately familiar.

“It’s Kit-Kat,” Adam says, surprised.

Kit-Kats are Adam’s favorite chocolates.

“Yeah, well, you have terrible taste in chocolate, but…” Ronan shrugs, feigning nonchalance.

Adam takes another bite, savoring the taste, and then puts it on the sidetable next to his bed.

“I know it’s not much, but I didn’t have time to—“

Adam kisses him, hand sliding up the back of his neck, fingers catching on the bristles. Ronan groans into the kiss, and then they’re not-talking for a second time.

“Sex, flowers, chocolates,” Adam says after, smiling into Ronan’s chest. “I think it was a pretty great Valentine’s Day.”

“Don’t know, man. It was fine, but next year we should do a romantic getaway to Paris, or something.”

Adam punches his shoulder, and Ronan grins.

“How long are you here for?”

“Until Sunday.”

“I’m really busy this weekend,” Adam says, regretful. “I won’t have time to—“

“It’s okay, Adam. I’ll take whatever time you have.”

Adam sighs. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

 

 

**iii.**

 

Ronan will be here any minute, and Adam can’t find the damn matches. The table is set and the food is ready, but the display isn’t complete without lighted candles.

It’s their first Valentine’s Day as a married couple, and Adam wants it to be perfect.

During college, they couldn’t always celebrate properly – his sophomore and junior year, either one or both of them were too busy to see each other in person.

Now, nearly a year after Adam graduated, they’re married and living together in an apartment in New York, and Adam convinced Ronan to run a few errands while he was supposedly at work.

There’s the distinct sound of Ronan’s voice outside the door, talking to their neighbor (in a strange turn of events, their neighbor is a middle aged lesbian, and she and Ronan were quick to become friends), and Adam nearly drops the lasagna dish he’s carrying over to the table. He hurriedly places it and runs over to the door. He studies his reflection in the mirror next to the door as Ronan yells a goodnight to Mrs. Waverly, smooths down his hair and shirt. He’s probably wearing a little too much cologne.

Adam takes a deep breath as the key turns in the lock and Ronan opens the door.

He startles a bit at seeing Adam there. “Oh, you’re home. I thought you were working late tonight.”

Adam clears his throat. “Well, I’m not.”

“You should’ve told me earlier, we could’ve done something for—“

Ronan abruptly stops in the middle of the room as he takes in the scene – the elaborate dinner, the dim lighting, the rose petals on the floor drawing a line to the bedroom.

Ronan turns to look at him, the whole world in his eyes. “Adam.”

Adam runs his hand through his hair, probably messing it up when he’d only just made it look decent. “Um. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Ronan face lights up in a wide smile and he nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to get to Adam and kiss him.

“Jesus, Adam,” Ronan says as he kisses him furiously.

“Ronan,” Adam gasps as Ronan’s hands start to drift lower than his back. “Let’s eat before we— _god_.”

Ronan pulls away with much difficulty, and they’re both flushed and breathing hard.

“Do you like it?” Adam asks, uncertain, his Henrietta accent fully on display.

“Fuck you. Of course I do.”

“I, um, didn’t get time to light the candles before you came in, sorry.”

Ronan rolls his eyes. “As if I care, dumbass. I love it.” Then his expression turns mirthful. “Parrish. You cooked again?”

Adam turns a little red. “Don’t start.”

“No, I appreciate it, I just—“

“It’s good this time, I swear,” Adam insists.

Ronan looks dubious, and Adam doesn’t exactly blame him. It’s a bit of a sore spot – no matter how much Adam tries, he’s just not a good cook. It frustrates him endlessly – theoretically, cooking should be scientific, and Adam knows a thing or two about science, but his food always turns out mediocre or downright awful. Nothing compared to how incredible Ronan’s cooking is.

“It’s _good._ Seriously. Just eat it, will you?”

“I was always going to eat it,” Ronan says. “I’d eat anything you cooked, even if it tasted like cow shit.”

Adam snorts. “Thanks, Farmer Boy, I’m touched.”

When Ronan takes the first bite, though, his eyes widen in surprise. “Okay, what did you do?”

Adam crosses his arms, suddenly nervous. Was it not good? “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what witchy voodoo shit did you do to make this taste so amazing?”

Adam glares at Ronan. “Do you have that little faith in me?”

Ronan levels him with a look. “Parrish.”

Adam sighs. “Fine. I Skyped with Henry and he talked me through it.” Henry is nearly as good of a cook as Ronan, surprisingly enough, and they’re constantly exchanging recipes as well as making fun of Adam and Gansey’s inability to make edible food.

Ronan lets out a laugh, thoroughly amused. “Jesus Christ.”

“Shut up,” Adam grumbles, but he’s smiling. “I hope you appreciate how much of my pride I had to sacrifice to do this for you, Lynch.”

“Oh, I do. You must love me a lot.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Well, that’s why I married you, isn’t it?”

Ronan’s answering smile is blinding.

Later, when they’re lying in bed together ( _“Do you want me to carry you to the bedroom? Is that what the rose petals are for?” “Fuck you, Ronan.”),_ Adam thinks about how so much has changed since that first February, and yet nothing at all, because it’s still them, still Ronan and Adam, except now they allow themselves to be so much _more_.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Adam,” Ronan says into the hollow of Adam’s throat. “I’m so fucking glad we’re married.”

Adam smiles, his mouth wobbling a little. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Where is Opal? I don't know, probably staying at the Barns. Kudos and comments would be super appreciated. Find me on twitter @peyttonsawyers and tumblr @lorelaiglmore.


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